


Sans Machinae

by Current521



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Death, Humanity, Medical stuff, Reversal of mechanisation, Vague Body Horror, idk how to tag this just be safe, implied suicidal ideation, not exactly medical malpractice but close, ok maybe more than implied tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Current521/pseuds/Current521
Summary: The Mechanisms find a young doctor who claims to be able to reverse Carmilla's work. This is what happens after
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Sans Machinae

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know the title mixes French and Latin, it just sounds better than either Sine Machinae or Sans Mécanismes so it's what you get

"I can do it." The young doctor — younger, by far, than any of their current clients — looked around at the assembled group. Nine of them, all told, looking equal parts tired and dangerous. "Some will be more complicated than others, but I've studied your… Your Mechanisms, and I can do it. Now, for the practicals; you two," they said, gesturing to the men of wood and brass, "will need completely new bodies, of course. Feel free to look in my morgue and choose one that you find appropriate." The two they'd pointed out left. "As for you." They turned to another man, dark skin and darker curls. "It's an arm, if I'm not mistaken. I assume you will want one that matches?"

"Of course I will," the man with the mechanical arm said.

"Well then, you can trust me, or you can look in the morgue."

"I'll look." He disappeared into the morgue.

"Same goes for you," the doctor continued, unbothered, turning to the man with long curly hair and deep set eyes. "What eye colour do you want?"

"Uh, hazel, I guess," he replied. "I won't need to look."

"Very well." The doctor turned to the tall woman who stood, ramrod straight, in the back. "Blood, I believe?"

She nodded.

"I don't suppose you know your blood type?"

"I do. Type O." Her words were clipped, with just the barest hint of an accent the doctor couldn't place, and a mildly irritated tone.

"Very well. It will require a fair few bags, but I should have it all on hand. Now, as for you three…" They turned to a trio in the corner; a short man with a long coat and altogether too many belts; a person with a fedora, smoking a cigarette; and a woman in the back, bright red hair in a small ponytail. "You all have internal organs, so I won't need your input. Finally," they turned to the last woman there, "your wings. I can replace the scapulae, but I don't think I can replace the wings themselves. You'll be fully human."

"That's alright," she said brightly. "Just get it done."

"Naturally. Now, I think that was it, so we will just wait for everyone to return from the morgue."

Which they did, moments later. The brass man had found another man, mid 30's or so, who looked a fair bit like a human version of the brass creature. The wooden one had found what had once been a woman, long brown hair and a beautiful face, proportioned almost exactly like the wooden one. The curly-haired man has found a corpse that roughly matched him in skin tone and arm proportions, and not much else.

The doctor looked the corpses over; all healthy, save for being dead, and all perfectly salvageable. "Very good," they said. "Let us begin."

When Jonny felt his heart pump, a proper thump of a heartbeat, and not the mechanical ticking of what he'd had before, he cried, for the first time since he was mortal on New Texas, fat tears sliding down his face, sobs wracking his body.

Nastya felt warm, outside of Aurora's embrace, for the first time in millennia, her heart pumping warm, red blood. She felt light. She pricked her finger, just to see red well to the surface, rather than silver.

Ashes couldn't breathe. They'd been so used to lungs that took just about anything they could think to put in them, so now, with soft, fleshy lungs, they felt imminent collapse. But air filled them, too, and slowly, Ashes could breathe again, could smoke again, although it made them cough like it hadn't since Mickey had given them their first cigar back on Malone.

Ivy remembered. Remembered everything from before, remembered Carmilla, and, for the first time, really remembered the Mechanisms, the family she had chosen. She was unashamed of the tears that welled up as she  _ remembered _ , rather than knew.

Brian could feel, really feel; his body not just a series of algorithms, but flesh and blood, could feel the way his heart pumped. He could hold morality, consider, for the first time, the grey areas that Carmilla had kept from him, and he felt both heavy and light with the absurdity of it all.

The Toy Soldier was real; it always had been, but now it was flesh and blood, a human body, a human mind, free from the restrictions of its coding. It opened its mouth and sang, the familiar voice of the angel from so long ago still there in its own vocal cords.

Tim was in darkness, for the first time since the moon war; it made him panic, and then calmed him, his soft, viscous, human eyes leading tears as he remembered to blink and focus with muscles, rather than thought. In the darkness, he could almost pretend to be anywhere.

Marius no longer felt like his arm was weighing him down, no longer felt the need to consciously tell it to move. Instead, he moved it as naturally as he did any other part of his body, as naturally as if it has been attached to him for decades. It was a horrible grift job, really, the skin not fully matching, his new arm slightly longer than the one he'd always had, but the young doctor had done good work with the stitches, and he could feel it just fine.

Raphaella felt light, her shoulders no longer weighed down by the terrible metal she'd had before. No flight, but also no immortality. A worthy trade; her shoulders ached with loss and surgery, but she was satisfied.

None of the Mechanisms died young, exactly, but those attending the funerals would have said otherwise. Tim was the first to go, with Ashes and Jonny soon to follow; all died with the vicious glee of violence that had characterised their lives for so long.

Nastya didn't stick around long after that; Aurora, too, was slowing and changing, and she'd waited so long to die.

Marius was soon to follow; no one could say exactly when or how he died, but years later, Ivy would weep at his grave.

Brian and Raphaella died almost simultaneously; an experiment with too much of a margin for error.

The Toy Soldier, of course, did as it always had and went to war, thrilled with its newfound ability to commit to loyalty. It fell protecting the friends and comrades it had made, and was given a soldier's burial.

Ivy retired, to a small library planet, relishing in her memories of books, relishing her ability to make new ones. When the library was burned, she didn't try to flee; she had earned the death her friends had been so quick to find, and she had earned it on her own terms.


End file.
